Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
KIT
A fter settling Eve into a warm, citrus-scented bubble bath, I give her a soft kiss good night. “Let me know if you need anything.” I start for the door, but she calls after me.
“Kit?”
“Yeah?” With a hand on the doorframe, I do my best not to stare at her breasts. Those perfect, peach globes bob in perfumed white froth, her juicy pink nipples peeking out through the bubbles.
“Eyes up here, sex god.” She grins as I look at her face.
The urge to tell her how goddamn beautiful she is overwhelms me. “You’re fucking sexy.”
“Thanks.” Eve bites her lip. “I had fun tonight.” A faint stain of pink finds her cheeks. “Not just the sex.”
“I had fun, too.”
She keeps nibbling her lip and I know something’s bothering her. “You and I, we’ve gotten close. And I’m tight with your sisters and mom. I just—” She pauses, choosing her words with care. “I don’t want to screw that up.”
“You won’t. We won’t.”
“Okay, but…” Another short pause. “I came here to live out some fantasies. To get over my breakup and try out some things I’ve been denying myself.”
A lightbulb goes on and I smile. “Eve?”
“Yes?”
“I promise it won’t hurt my feelings if you fuck other consorts.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Opens it again. “How did you know that’s what I was asking?”
“Because you’re kind.” I move back through the bathroom, bending to kiss the side of her head. “You care how other people feel and how your actions impact them. I love that about you.”
There’s instant relief in her eyes. “So we’re good?”
“Better than good. We’re great.” I start for the exit again. “But if you’re wanting a threesome in any configuration, I’m game.”
She laughs and tosses a handful of bubbles. “I will carefully review your sex resumé for consideration.”
I chuckle and back away from the door. “Good night, Eve.”
I’m still smiling on the walk back to my room. Consorts all live in a big, stucco building set a little bit back from the beach. It’s called The Chateau, and it’s a few hundred yards from The Villa where guests stay.
Most consorts’ rooms have views of the sea, plus we have something better. A location tucked into a rainforest, with nightbirds and monkeys weaving a musical tapestry. It lends an air of magic to the place, especially on nights like this.
As I’m sticking my key in the lock, there’s a familiar chime on the other side of the door. I left my phone here for the night, not wanting to be bothered on a date. But that’s my sister’s ringtone I hear as I push into the apartment.
“Hey.” Tucking the phone to my ear, I kick the door shut. “Everything okay?”
“Kit!” A ripple of laughter in the background says Camille’s not alone. “You have to settle a bet for us.”
“Okay.” Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I sling myself onto the sofa. “Go.”
“Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker.” There’s a click and some static, then a whole lot of laughter. “I’m here with Caitlynn and Clara.”
That’s three out of six sisters on the call. “Hello, ladies.”
“Hey!” Caitlynn sounds like she’s tipsy, and maybe Clara is as well. “Kit, where are you?”
“Just got home from a date.” It slips out before I think it through.
But it’s true what I just did with Eve felt more like a date than a work thing. Technically, I wasn’t even on the job.
“Wait,” Camille says, sounding more sober. “Who are you dating?”
Stifling a sigh, I sip on my beer. “Not dating like consistently seeing a woman multiple times.” As the words leave my mouth, I know that’s not true. “Not like a girlfriend.”
“What’s she like?” That’s Clara, the youngest, and she sounds tipsy as hell. “Remember that time we met Miranda in Palm Springs?”
It’s a challenge to follow her thought pattern. “When she spoke at that conference? Yeah.” I had another commitment, so they made it a girls’ trip. “Why’d you bring that up?”
“She told us you’d talked about getting a pet.” Clara takes a big slurp of something. “That you wanted a dog, and she wanted a cat, and you couldn’t agree.”
That’s more or less true. “I would have been happy with either, but yeah.”
“But then Miranda decided she didn’t want any pets.” Caitlynn hiccups. “Shoulda been a sign she was no good.”
It’s probably not worth arguing when they’re like this. “Not her fault we wanted different things. And a pet would have made the breakup harder.”
“Eve has a cat!” blurts Clara. She sounds drunker than Caitlynn. “He’s here on my lap ‘cuz Camille’s taking care of Bratwurst while Eve is at a s?—”
“She’s busy,” Camille interrupts to a flutter of giggles from the others.
“I see.” A thin rope of guilt wraps itself around my chest. “Give her my regards.”
“Bratwurst is a he ,” insists Caitlynn. “But he’s missing his balls. Just has these little fuzzy nuts that are empty, I guess. Eve says he’s neutered.”
We need to move on from the subject of Eve. From anything forcing me to fib to my sisters. “Why did you ask about me getting a pet with Miranda?”
“You like dogs and cats both ,” insists Clara.
“I do.” Is there a point to this line of questioning?
“We were just wondering.” That’s Camille, the sober one in the bunch. “Why you wouldn’t just agree to the cat. If you like them and all?—”
“Why does this matter?”
“I hate her.” Clara hiccups, losing the thread of the story.
“Because,” says Camille, always the voice of reason. “Was it that you dug in your heels and didn’t want to give in because you wanted to show strength in the relationship?”
Clara hiccups again. “Or you hate cats.”
“I don’t hate cats.”
“So why?” Caitlynn takes another big slurp of her drink. “If you like cats and you like Miranda and you wanted to be with her forever?—”
“It was a boundary, okay?” God, this is silly. “If we’d gotten a dog, we’d have to live under the same roof and share the responsibility of walking and feeding it. It would mean buying dog beds and sitting on the sofa together with the dog in our laps watching old movies together.”
All things I wanted, at least as the relationship progressed.
And Miranda didn’t want that.
In a nutshell, the dog was a symbol. A symbol for what went wrong with Miranda.
“You craved commitment and domesticity,” Camille says in her therapist voice. “And she craved flexibility.”
“Which is totally fine,” I insist. “It just meant we weren’t right for each other.”
This is the story I tell myself when self-doubt creeps in. We wanted different things. It’s not that she didn’t want me, personally. Just that we had different goals.
“I still hate her,” says Caitlynn. They all laugh.
“I don’t hate her.” I truly don’t. “You can’t blame someone for wanting different things for their own life. That’s just how it is.”
“True,” Camille says. She’s definitely sober. “The next woman you date, we’re putting her through the ringer. No one who doesn’t want marriage and kids and a fucking pet if that’s what you want.”
Caitlynn chimes in. “And no one who lets us believe she’s our sister when she can’t love our brother forever.”
“He’s not dating again.” Clara sounds drunker by the minute. “Any woman who hurts him has to face me in a cage match.”
She weighs ninety pounds soaking wet. I smile. “Okay.”
“How’s the job?” Camille asks. “What are you doing again?”
“Research.” Lifting the beer to my lips, I search for a subject change. “Maybe I’ll come home for Mom’s birthday this year.” It’s six weeks from now, when I’ll be finished at Crystal Bliss. I haven’t decided what comes next. “Haven’t been home for a birthday in ages.”
“Years,” Clara says. “Can you really?”
“We’ll see.” A fierce wave of love for my family grabs hold of my lungs and squeezes.
My sisters are a lot. They’re overprotective and bossy and annoying. They’re way too smart for their own good.
And I love them more than anything. Same with Mom.
They deserve a better brother, a better son than I’ve been these past few years. If I bring anyone into their lives again, she’ll need to be someone who stays. Someone who wants to be part of the family forever. Who welcomes me into her own.
It was never fair to Miranda, expecting her to want something she didn’t. I almost don’t blame her for blocking my sisters. She needed to close that chapter of her life.
My sisters are sidetracked bickering about cat beds, and it’s possible they’ve forgotten we’re on a call. “Hey guys?” I clear my throat. “I need to go.”
“Okay, Kit?” It’s Camille.
“Yeah?”
“Take care of you, okay? Promise?”
“Yeah,” I assure her. “I promise.”
“No, really.” She’s insistent this time. “No more settling for someone who doesn’t want the same thing you do. It’s painful to watch someone try to fit a square peg in a round hole.”
The fact that she’s not making jokes about pegging means she’s serious about this. “Okay,” I assure her. “I promise.”
And I promise myself I won’t pressure a partner to be something she’s not. That I’ll learn from mistakes and do better, even if it breaks my heart.
* * *
The message comes through in the portal as I’m ending my morning workout.
KORA: How’s your dirty dancing?
I stare at the message. Did my boss get drunk with my sisters?
Bubbles pop up to indicate she’s typing again.
KORA: One of our consorts has a family emergency. Any chance you can sub for Dirty Dancing Brunch?
That’s a thing?
But hey, I can do it. In college I covered a chunk of tuition by touring with a men’s exotic dance troupe one summer. It’s one of the few examples I can point to of me being carefree and fun.
If I’m here to be part of this team, I may as well go all in.
ME: Yes, I can dance. When and where?
She texts me a string of emojis meant to convey gratitude. Those hands people think are paying, but they’re really a high-five. A couple of eggplants and peaches and?—
KORA: Thirty minutes from now in the beach bar. We’ll have your costume waiting.
Costume? Guess they’re making this a real production.
Whatever. I’m a team player. Besides, I’m the new guy. Something like this means more opportunity for consorts to see me as one of them. That’s integral for the research I’m here to conduct.
By the time I get down to the beach, there’s a handful of women sipping mimosas at tables in the sand. A small stage sits under palm fronds woven with bright flags. There’s a sound system rigged up and thumping.
“Sounds like a party,” I call as I enter the makeshift dressing room. There’s a small bank of cubbies where the dancers are stuffing their street clothes and shoes.
“Hey.” Logan, the Marine, waves from the corner where he’s snapping himself into a cop costume. He twirls a set of handcuffs hooked to his hip. “You have the right to find this cheesy.”
I laugh as Kora comes over with a pile of clothing. “Sorry for the late notice. You get the tuxedo.”
“Great.” I unfurl the bundle to find a set of tuxedo pants with a jacket, shirt, and bowtie. There’s Velcro at the waist and snaps everywhere else for easy removal. There’s also a skimpy red G-string, still in its plastic packaging.
“You’ll keep that on,” Kora says. “We don’t get nude for Beach Brunch.”
“No one wants dicks in their bacon,” I quip as I unwrap the red satin marble sack. “Not sure this butt floss is much better.”
Kora pats my shoulder, then turns. “Thanks for being a trooper.”
“I thought I was the trooper,” Logan shouts after her, pulling on his cop hat. “This event is a great way to get your name out there. Lots of guests book from it.”
“Good to know.”
I strip off my clothes and pull on the costume as the activities director announces the start of the show. The microphone squeals on the other side of the wall.
“Welcome to the Crystal Bliss Beach Brunch,” he calls. There’s a chorus of female cheers, followed by a crackle of static. “Who’s ready to see some sexy consorts strutting their stuff?”
As I fasten my shirt, Logan hands me my bowtie. “This place seems classy ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent?—”
“Cheesy as hell?”
He laughs. “Yep. But the guests seem to like it.”
“Do you?” I haven’t interviewed Logan yet, so I’m curious. “Does it make you feel like a piece of meat?”
“Hell, no.” He grins. “I mean, maybe? But more like wagyu beef or one of those crazy expensive cuts of pork. What’s that called? Kurobuta, I think.”
“Sounds right.” God, these pants are tight. Guess I won’t be wearing them long.
Logan peels back the curtain to peer at the crowd. “Good turnout this morning. That always means more bookings.”
“Does it ever get to be too much?”
“Too much fucking?” He laughs like I’ve said something funny. “Nope. Not for me, anyway.”
He wanders off as Kora comes back with her tablet. “Topher, you go on after Sybil. I’ve queued up the song you requested.”
“Thanks.” Good thing I remember most of my college routines.
Is it a coincidence I picked Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack out of six or seven songs I perfected? Probably not.
And did it cross my mind what Eve shared about having that song in her Timberlake spank bank? Perhaps.
Do I even know if Eve’s out there this morning? No.
But some small, egocentric part of me really hopes she is.
I peek through the curtain, scanning the crowd. The first performer is a guy from Australia doing a routine to Kylie Minogue’s Can’t Get You Out of My Head . The guy’s got great moves, strutting and thrusting as the audience cheers.
Off to the left, I spot Eve in the crowd. She’s dressed in a simple white tank top paired with a floaty blue skirt. Her hair’s pulled back in a ponytail and she’s waving a fistful of Monopoly money. That’s what they use here to keep this from feeling like a cash grab.
“She’s hot,” Logan says when he catches me watching her. “Did I see you with her last night?”
“Yep.” I don’t think that’s classified info, since consorts can see any guest’s history. “I know her from home.”
“No shit?” He looks back at Eve with a low whistle. “Feel free to drop my name. She’s sexy as fuck.”
I wait for a wave of jealousy, but nope. There’s none.
To be honest, I wouldn’t mind watching her with Logan. Assuming that’s something Eve would be into. “I’ll mention it.”
“Let her know I’m game for whatever.” He gives me a wink I’m not entirely sure how to read. “Literally anything.”
“Good to know.” I make a mental note to watch Eve when he dances. If he seems like her type, I’ll put in a good word.
One by one, the dancers go through their routines. It’s mostly men, but Sybil and another female consort do a sexy dance that makes it clear they know how to pleasure a woman. It’s insanely hot to watch, and I see several resort guests tapping away in the Crystal Bliss app.
A guy comes out at the end of their number and both women fall to their knees in an oral sex pantomime. It’s like a kinky sales pitch, and the audience goes wild. Off to the side, I catch a glimpse of Kora. She’s watching her wife with undisguised lust.
“Up next,” calls the announcer, “we have a brand-new guest consort at Crystal Bliss. He just arrived this week, and he’s ready to bring your fantasies to life. Please welcome… Topher !”
Adrenaline shoots through my system as synth music throbs. With a quick bounce to get myself going, I strut onto the stage. Muscle memory kicks in, and I’m shaking my ass like I did as a twenty-year-old horndog. I work my way into the crowd, grinding on the back of one woman’s chair as her friends cram fake money in my pants. A pretty Latina woman pretends to fan herself, while the blonde beside her bites down on her knuckles.
My jacket and shirt come off quickly, and I’m down to my tear-off trousers. I don’t realize I’m dancing my way to Eve until I’m gyrating inches away from her face.
With a lecherous look at my crotch, she lifts her eyes to mine. “Why does that look familiar?” She pretends to consider. “Oh, right—you had it inside me last night.”
A woman at the other end of the table does a high-pitched whistle. “Take it off, baby!”
A brunette beside her whips out a fistful of fun money. “I’d like a closer peek.” She squeals as I throw in a few hip thrusts. “Pants off, big boy.”
I roll my abs in time to the music, adding an extra ass shake for good measure. Ripping off pants takes practice, and I mentally walk through the steps.
Hands on hips, fingers hooked under the Velcro tabs. Bend at the waist, back flat. Chest up. I lock eyes with Eve and she grins.
Something sparks between us. For three or four seconds, I forget what I’m doing. I forget tear-off pants and beachfront strip shows and Justin Timberlake and everything else but Eve’s green eyes.
She blushes and I snap out of it, whipping my arms out straight. My pants go flying, the crowd goes wild, and Eve howls with the rest of the women.
“Wooohooo!” she shouts, throwing her fistful of Monopoly money. “That’s hot.”
Ego swelling—along with my dick—I dance my way to the other side of the table. A pale beauty with a pixie cut whips out her phone. “I’m finding him in the portal.”
Calmly, serenely, Eve picks up her phone. Tapping the screen without taking her eyes off me, she pulls up the Crystal Bliss app.
I’m moving away, dancing back to the stage for my big finish, but my eyes find Eve’s in the crowd as she watches me. The fire in her gaze singes my lungs.
“You,” she mouths, grinning.
Is she laying claim to me or joking around? I’m not sure what that means. I’m aching to grab her. To march into the crowd and boost her up on the table, shoving her skirt to her hips. I can feel her legs gripping my waist, the heat of her sex pressing against me as I?—
“Give it up for Topher, ladies! Up next, we have Paolo from Colombia, showing you a little Latin love.”
The crowd applauds as I jog to my cubby, high on adrenaline and hormones. It’s been years since I felt this rush, and I’ve gotta admit, it was fun.
Grabbing my water bottle, I take a big swig, wiping the sweat from my face. I pick up my pager from the cubby and glance down to see a new message.
Room 24: Private request.
That’s Eve’s room number. I’m smiling as I toggle to the detail field.
Threesome.
FMF.
Female consort to be selected at the discretion of male consort.
Holy shit. Eve wants me for a three-way. And she wants me to choose who joins us.
I’m not sure what to make of it. Is this Eve feeling jealous? Eve feeling guilty, wanting to make sure I’m not butthurt if she picks another guy?
From a practical standpoint, she’s choosing someone who knows her body. Someone she trusts to bring her big fantasy to life.
I study the screen, but there’s no other info. Just what I’ve already read.
“Hey, Topher! You were great out there.”
I turn and there’s Sybil, still wearing her costume from her time on stage. She’s walking with Kora, her arm hooked around her wife’s waist.
“I’m glad I messaged you.” Kora beams. “You’re a natural.”
“Thanks.” I mop at my forehead again. “I had fun.”
Sybil points to my pager and smiles. “Let me guess—you’re blowing up with notifications?”
I glance down and yeah. I didn’t even notice the seven enchantment requests stacked up beneath Eve’s. But hers takes priority.
“A few,” I admit, wondering what protocol is. “One’s a three-way with two women. Her first. She asked me to choose.”
“Ooooh, me!” Sybil raises her hand like a schoolgirl. “Pretty please? I love those.”
Kora laughs and takes a step back. “Have fun.” She kisses Sybil’s cheek, then backs away. “Gotta get air traffic control wands to the final guys. They’re doing that Top Gun routine. See you later.”
As she hurries off, Sybil turns with a smile. “Is this threesome with the sexy brunette who couldn’t take her eyes off you?”
“Yeah.” Damn, she’s perceptive. “I know her from home. Long story.”
“I’d love to hear it sometime.” She gives me a flirty smile. “And I’d love to help out if you like. No pressure, though. If you’ve got someone else in mind?—”
“I don’t,” I admit. “You’ve worked here a while, right?”
“Three years, two months, and a few days. How come?”
“Just curious.” I should have asked this in our interview, but it didn’t feel relevant to the study. “Is there ever much strain in your marriage around your career here?”
Sybil considers that. “You’d think, but no. I mean, we argue, sure. Just like any married couple. But we’re open and honest and talk about everything. Literally everything .” She grins. “It helps that we’re both turned on by sharing our partner.”
“That’s great.” And I know from experience with an open relationship that it isn’t so easy to do. “You like being married?”
She cocks her head. “Call me nuts, but I’m guessing you’re not asking this of the others you’re considering for the threesome.”
“Nope.” I chuckle. “Sorry. Nosy habits of a research psychologist.”
“I don’t mind. And yes, to answer your question.” She rests a hand on a pillar, hip jutting out to one side. “I love being married. Coming home to Kora each night, sharing our hopes and dreams and groceries. Becoming the very best versions of ourselves as we grow and change and explore.” She tilts her head again. “How come?”
“Just curious.” For more than professional reasons. “I’d love to have you join me for the threesome with Eve. Can I ask you a favor?”
“Tickle your balls when you come?” The gleam in her eyes says she’s only half joking.
“Obviously. But also, let’s treat Eve like a fucking queen. Don’t let her get wrapped up in pleasing us. It’s kind of her thing.”
“Say no more. Treating women like royalty is my specialty.”
“Let’s do it,” I say, certain I’ve made the right choice. “Let’s give Eve an experience she won’t ever forget.”
Sybil grins. “Count me in.”